


we were something, don't you think so?

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (I hope), (i think), (im trying to angst), Angst, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not A Happy Ending, Sad Atsumu, Self-Indulgent, Yearning, atsumu pov, lowkey (highkey) ooc, no beta we die like men, sad sakusa, the oc is very lowkey like hes so minor you won't even notice he's there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25506034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Atsumu stops in front of Sakusa’s building, neither of them move. After a while, Sakusa lets out a shaky breath and runs his hands through his hair. Fuck, he’s beautiful. “Is there anything else, Miya?” Miya.He was the kind of person who couldn’t tell the person he loved how he felt; he was a coward. Now Sakusa’s asking, “Is there anything else, Miya?” He’s Miya Atsumu, dishonest and afraid, so he shakes his head, smiles, and bids Sakusa goodbye.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Kudos: 49





	we were something, don't you think so?

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is my first time attempting angst i hope you enjoy it!! also title is from taylor swift's the 1 (folklore)

“I wish I told him,” Atsumu says into his pillow.

Osamu looks at his brother, something like sympathy and pity on his face. He points out, “Ya can still do that.”

Atsumu groans and presses the pillow further into his face. “No, I can’t, ‘Samu,” he whines, voice muffled.

“Then stop whinin’, idiot. Either do something about it or sh--what the fuck didja throw that pillow at me for?!”

  
  


Four months later, Atsumu is still the same, yelling into his pillow and thinking about the _what ifs_ and _i wish_ and the _fuck i should’ves_. But he’s also Miya Atsumu, number 13 and starting setter for the MSBY Black Jackals. So he stuffs his things into his bag and shoves his feelings into the back of his head.

When he serves, he can feel the entire court’s eyes on him, and he fucking revels in it. And then Sakusa says, “Nice serve,” and he thinks he’s about to tear his hair out. But he’s Miya Atsumu, so he takes all that and puts it into another serve.

When he sets to Sakusa, and the black-haired boy spikes the ball, he thinks, “I fucking hate his stupid wrists.” There’s a smile playing on his lips and Sakusa’s all smug and smirks at him, with something he can’t quite decipher.

They win the first, third and fourth sets, and Sakusa brushes his shoulder against Atsumu’s. Atsumu burns, like there’s a star inside him, and he forces out a grin for his teammates. That’s just about all he can do to stop himself from throwing something. Next thing he knows, Hinata and Bokuto are hugging him, and yelling as if they’ve never seen him on the court. He’s happy about the win, he knows that. This is good.  _ Then why am I struggling to keep this smile on my face? _

Coach Foster looks at all of them, chest puffed up and lips pulled into a grin. When Meian says they should celebrate, the coach agrees. “You boys did great. Go celebrate. Have fun, but not too much fun.”

Atsumu watches Sakusa rush to the locker room. Then he emerges from the stall, pulls on his clothes, puts on his mask. Just before he walks out, Meian calls at him, “Sakusa! You coming to the party?” There’s a little  _ just come this time _ in his words. So Sakusa nods and says he’ll be there at 7.

Sakusa Kiyoomi is pretty. Atsumu’s always known this. Back when they were first years in high school and he put a nasty spin on his spike and Atsumu thought, “I’m going to set for him one day.” Back at the All-Japan Youth training camp, when he interrogates Kageyama about them beating Shiratorizawa. Back in the Nationals when Atsumu wished he could beat him, but instead they lost to Karasuno in the first match and then Itachiyama lost the next day. Back in their third year of high school-- _ finally _ \--and he thought, “I hope this isn’t the last time I play with him.”

Now he looked up at Sakusa-- _ Omi-kun _ \--whose face is just inches away from his. ( _ The  _ Sakusa Kiyoomi who had just told him he  _ liked _ him. Him, Miya Atsumu who sometimes didn’t even bother showering before going to bed sometimes.) He can see a small cut on his left cheek, the two moles on his forehead, dark eyes boring into his. He wasn’t perfect, but Atsumu thought, “He’s fucking beautiful.” He said as much.

Sakusa rolled his eyes and said, “Shut up, Miya.” Atsumu could  _ feel _ his breath on his lips.  _ Fuck fuck fuck _ .

He wanted to make a joke,  _ call me Atsumu. Osamu’s Miya, too. Always so demanding, huh, Omi-kun? _ But there’s soft hands cupping his face and a silent query for permission. So he smiled, his hands clenched in the pockets of his jacket to stop him from shaking because he’s wanted this for so long. So, so long. Sakusa pressed his lips against Atsumu’s and the latter hoped he doesn’t fucking combust from this alone.

Slowly, he placed his hands on the taller boy’s waist, cautious and soft as if he was afraid that might break this---whatever this is. Sakusa mumbled against his lips, “It’s okay, Miya.”

A few weeks later, on a Saturday when they didn’t have practice, Atsumu found himself showering and then sanitizing himself again when he entered Sakusa’s apartment. “Wow, Omi-kun, that’s nice decor ya got,” he joked, looking at the mostly plain walls, earning himself a glare and a threat to throw him out.

They spent two hours watching a movie, which started out with the two of them at opposite ends of the couch but at some point, Atsumu put his head down on Sakusa’s lap, who didn’t flinch away but instead started running his fingers through his hair. He said, “You need to get your roots fixed.”

Atsumu smiled and looked up at his--what was he again? What were they? Boyfriends? He thought again, “It’s like God took his time to make him this beautiful but it’s almost effortless for him.”

Around 6, Atsumu convinced Sakusa to let him cook instead of ordering in. He watched Sakusa eat, a little grin playing on his lips as he chewed.  _ I think I love him _ . Atsumu nudged him under the table. “Are we on a date, Omi-kun?”

Without missing a beat, Sakusa replied, “If you want this to be.” He wasn’t joking, there was no sarcasm in his words.

Atsumu turned beet red and started choking on his food. “Omi-kun!”

“What? You asked.”

“You- but- I--”

“Just eat, Atsumu, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

He started choking again. He felt himself on fire, he  _ knew _ his entire face was red at this point. Sakusa sighed, “What is it now?”

“You- you called me Atsumu!” He felt the grin on his face growing, like it was some disease. “Not Miya! You called me Atsumu.”

“That’s your name, right? Now eat.” Despite himself, Sakusa smiled.

One week later, he woke up in a bed softer than his own, enveloped in a blanket that smelled way too good. There was an arm slung over his waist and he knew he should get up but he pressed into the warmth of Sakusa’s body. He was always so warm--maybe it was all the layers he wore.

It was good. Sakusa. Sakusa Kiyoomi. Omi-kun. Little dates and dinner at each other’s place and falling asleep in each other’s embrace. Atsumu started buying sanitizers, sprays and wipes, found himself keeping them in corners of his apartment and his car. He found himself buying gloves and keeping them on him, just in case. He found himself wiping things down so that Sakusa could touch them.

One time, he was talking on the phone with his brother, and Osamu said, “Does he know?”

“Know what, ‘Samu? Don’t be vague.”

“That you love him.”

“What? I don’t--”

“I’m not fuckin’ stupid. I think you should tell him.”

Atsumu knew he loved Sakusa. They were...lovers; they hadn’t put a label on it yet. He knew he loved Sakusa, it’s just that no one else had ever pointed it out to him like this. Well, the only person he told was his brother, so maybe that was it. But did he really love Sakusa? The only things he remembered loving were his family and volleyball.

“Shut up,” he said too quickly, and hung up without saying goodbye.

At 7:30, Atsumu walks into the room, and he makes his way over to the first two people he saw as soon as he got there--Sakusa and Meian. The former is saying, “Yes, yes, I won’t leave early, I told you.” When Meian gives him a tilt of the head, unconvinced, he rolls his eyes, “I  _ promise _ , 9 pm.” At that, the other man gives him a satisfied nod and walks away.

Sakusa looks at Atsumu when he clears his throat. His eyes go over him, and Atsumu has to resist the urge to stand straighter. Atsumu knows he looked good, but all Sakusa gives him is an unimpressed quirk of his eyebrows. Like this, he seems taller, and even more beautiful. Atsumu doesn’t say that. He says, “Ya did good today, Omi-kun.”

“Thanks.” A beat. “You, too.” Atsumu wishes Sakusa didn’t have a mask covering half his face so he could try and tell what he was thinking.

The silence hangs in the air, thick and heavy in a way it wasn’t before. Suddenly, a hand snakes around Atsumu’s waist and there are soft lips pressed to his. “Here it is. Your drink,” he whispers. The blond registers the black-haired boy bristling at this.

He turns to Sakusa. “Omi-kun, this is my boyfriend.” Sakusa doesn’t move. Atsumu thinks, “Don’t look at me like that, Sakusa. Don’t look at him like that.” Next, he thinks, “God, you look like you’d get your hands bloody for me right now.” He knows not to say anything else.

Left arm loosely slung around Atsumu’s waist, he thrusts his right forward, “Nice to meet you, Sakusa-san. I’m Shiro--”

Feigning sheepishness, Sakusa smiles, even though they can’t see it with his mask on, “Shiro-san, I’m so sorry, I have to go. I don’t mean to be rude, but I just remembered something.” When he looks at Atsumu, his breath hitches a little. “I hope you both enjoy yourselves. Your boyfriend’s one hell of a setter.”

  
  


“Atsumu, it’s already ten. Get out of bed, idiot.”

“I’m on break. Go away.”

Osamu sighed and closed the door.

Atsumu hadn’t slept at all. He fell asleep in the evening the previous day, and then woke up at 11 pm. After a couple hours of scrolling through Twitter, he let the phone drop onto the floor and spent the night staring up at the ceiling.

_ If just one thing was different, if I’d said something, would things be different right now? Would I be with him right now? _

_ I feel alone without him. _

_ If he burns, I’d burn with him. I’d be ashes. I’d die for him. _ “No, you wouldn’t,” another voice in his head mocked him.  _ Yes, I would. I would die for him (in secret). _

_ I miss you, Kiyoomi. If wishes came true, you’d be here with me; you’d be the one. _

On the third day of Atsumu wallowing in self-pity and heartbreak, Osamu pushed him outside the apartment. “Go out. It’ll be good for ya. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even meet someone who will distract ya from this for a while.” Osamu, as usual, was right. He did meet someone, and he distracted Atsumu very well.

  
  


Before Sakusa walks away, Atsumu thinks, “I want him to keep looking at me. I want him to keep looking at me.” So before he could scold himself and back out, he takes Sakusa’s hand and says, “You were amazing.”

Sakusa pats his hand, and removes it. “Thanks,” he says, “you were amazing, too.”

Heart beating in his throat, Atsumu bites his tongue and gives him a tight-lipped smile.  _ Don’t go. Take my hand and say we need to talk. I’d drop it all for you. Tell me you want me, tell me I was wrong. Kiyoomi, we’re  _ it _.  _ He watches Sakusa walk away.

They all got a day off after the party. Coach Foster told them to rest up, stay healthy and take care of themselves. The next day, back to practice. At the end of practice, Atsumu rushes to take a shower, thoroughly scrubbing himself quickly. He finishes before Sakusa does

When Sakusa comes out, he asks, “Didja walk here today?”

It takes a while for the other boy to register that he was talking to him. “Yes. My car’s at the shop.”

“I could drive ya back.”

“No, it’s alright.”

“Let me help, Omi-kun.”

“Okay.”

Atsumu wipes down the passenger seat and the door handle and everything that could come in contact with Sakusa before the other boy got in. He still has the wipes and the spray and even the gloves even though he’s not quite sure what he’d use the last one for.

When Atsumu stops in front of Sakusa’s building, neither of them move. After a while, Sakusa lets out a shaky breath and runs his hands through his hair.  _ Fuck, he’s beautiful _ . “Is there anything else, Miya?”  _ Miya. _

_ I would ruin myself a million times over for you. I miss you so much. I hated losing you. But fuck, you weren’t even mine to lose. Will you call me later and tell me you want to talk? I’ve canceled all my plans today just in case you call and want to talk. Will you call me? _

Atsumu shoves everything down, slaps a grin on his face, “Of course not, Omi-kun.”

“Okay.” He opens the car door. “Bye, Thanks, Miya.”  _ I should’ve told you I love you. _

“It’s nothin’. See ya tomorrow, Omi-kun!”   
  


One night, when Sakusa crawled into bed behind him, the motion woke Atsumu, but he didn’t bother opening his eyes. Sakusa’s fingers traced his cheekbones, and then pressed a soft kiss right there. “I love you, Atsumu,” he whispered.

Right then, Atsumu thought, _no_. He kept his breathing even and shut his eyes tighter. He knew he loved Sakusa, too, but he thought, _not him._ _Not him, not like this, not with_ me _._ He was MIya Atsumu, 23 years old, starting setter for the MSBY Black Jackals. He was still as cowardly as ever if it wasn’t volleyball. He wasn’t the kind of person anyone loved. He wasn’t passionate or honest or nice.

He was the kind of person who couldn’t tell the person he loved how he felt; he was a coward. Now Sakusa’s asking, “Is there anything else, Miya?” He’s Miya Atsumu, dishonest and afraid, so he shakes his head, smiles, and bids Sakusa goodbye.

About three months after their little date in Sakusa’s dining room, they knew each other better than they ever thought they would. Atsumu learned that Sakusa has some more moles on his back and Sakusa learned that Atsumu is scared of lizards. They knew so many parts of each other. It was like they were learning how to draw a map of each other with their eyes closed.

Sakusa had his key in, about to turn to let them into his apartment. He turned, “Do you know how I feel about you, Atsumu?”

“Ya like me.” He was still Miya Atsumu, a liar.

“Yeah.” There was something Sakusa wasn’t saying.

“What is it, Kiyoomi?” Atsumu huffed, “I’m not a fuckin’ psychic; I’ve never learned to read yer mind, so just say it.”

When Sakusa met his eyes, he thought,  _ I fucked up, I shouldn’t have said that. _ Sakusa said, “I love you.”

He knew he loved Sakusa Kiyoomi. That was one of the easiest things that came with Sakusa Kiyoomi (for him). Loving him was like a truth that neither of them could escape from. Like how the Sun rose from the east and set in the west. Like how most plants were green and like how the Earth’s axis was tilted. It was so easy, so honest. And yet.

And yet.

“Atsumu.”

“What?”

“How do you feel about me? Am I more than just…” he didn’t finish. Instead, he let it hang like a question. Like he was asking what they were, or what they could be.

He was Sakusa Kiyoomi, blunt to a fault, and beautiful. And he was Miya Atsumu, a liar who was afraid of so many things. So he said, voice just above a whisper, “I don’t know.”

“I think we should end this, Miya.”  _ Miya. There it is. _ Sakusa put a hand on Atsumu’s face and made him meet his eyes. He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I think we should end this,” he said again, like he was telling himself to let go than he was asking Atsumu to leave.

“Okay.” Sakusa let his hand drop, like that wasn’t quite what he was expecting. Atsumu watched Sakusa turn and go into his apartment. He swallowed his tears. He stood there, trying to hold onto all the love that he had left. Holding onto the love that was spilling out of him into the hall onto the ugly floor tiles. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, heart burning and shattering.

Atsumu dialled Osamu. The first thing he said when his twin picked up was: “I should’ve told him.”

Maybe it was some freaky twin intuition or whatever, or Osamu was just smart, but he didn’t say anything except, “Yeah, yeah you should’ve.”

The call ended with a soft click and Atsumu didn’t know how long he sat in his car, parked at his apartment building until Osamu called again.

He's Miya Atsumu, already twenty-four and he knows what he wants, there are other things he does not know. but he knows that he misses Sakusa Kiyoomi.

**Author's Note:**

> hey i hope you enjoyed it !! thanks for reading!! comments and kudos are appreciated hehe (did you get all the folklore references littered in there i couldn't help myself i listened to that album and i thought: i need to write some angsty shit with my favorite characters referencing this album) <3 (there was so much more i wanted to add and stuff so maybe one day i will)


End file.
